


The Choice

by Frumpologist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Nostalgia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21736678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: This fic was written for Weasleys, Witches, & Writers Facebook group’s Flash Comp. My chosen main character is Charlie Weasley, and the prompt for this Edition was Common Room.
Relationships: Nymphadora Tonks/Charlie Weasley, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks
Comments: 13
Kudos: 58
Collections: Weasleys Writing War - Flash Comp Edt 1





	The Choice

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [WeasleysWitchesWriters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeasleysWitchesWriters/pseuds/WeasleysWitchesWriters) in the [Weasleys_Writing_War_Flash_Comp_Edt_1](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Weasleys_Writing_War_Flash_Comp_Edt_1) collection. 



> I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe. I thank my Alpha/Beta, who shall remain nameless for now, for their work on this story.
> 
>  **Prompt:** Fastest fingers will claim this prompt as your main character. One claim per prompt! If you drop your claim, you are ineligible from the competition in all capacities (participating, alpha/beta, and/or voting). Use the chosen prompt character as the main character in your story. Use the required verbatim for the Summary & Notes. Do not use excessive tags, only standard tags are allowed in this competition. Good Luck!

Smoke billowed from Ravenclaw Tower, a grey plume filling the otherwise clear, star-filled sky. The profile of the castle was a horrendous sight; crumbling stone and crushed statues littered the grounds. Charlie trudged his way through the entrance and heaved a sigh. It was no better inside. Mud and ash covered most of the floor. Piles of broken frames were shoved into corners. Small fires still blazed where spellfire had caught fabric.

The cost of defeating Lord Voldemort was losing the piece of innocence that Hogwarts had always symbolized. When he’d left the school grounds as a graduate seven years prior, Charlie never would have thought that in less than a decade, its walls would lack the warmth, security, and beauty that he’d left behind.

As he climbed the stairs leading to the Portrait of the Fat Lady, he cast an  _ Augmenti _ to put out random flickering flames that lit his way to his old haunt. The Fat Lady cried in her portrait with glass of plum-colored wine sloshing onto the floor. Charlie watched it roll out of the frame.

He approached her carefully and cleared his throat to try and capture her attention. She glanced at him from the crook of her arm and hiccuped.

“Oh, another ginger.” The Fat Lady waved her hand at him and swung the portrait open. “Fine, fine, just go in. Protocol doesn’t matter anymore anyway.”

Charlie had to duck as he entered the familiar Common Room. Its usual fire roared in the fireplace and the armchairs were covered in cozy throw pillows and fuzzy blankets. It almost appeared unaffected; if it weren’t for the scattered gobstones and sheets of parchment dotted along the floor.

His hand held tight to his hip as Charlie ran a tired and scorched hand through his hair. So many of his firsts happened here; his first howler, his first snog, his first heartbreak. Tears stung the corners of his eyes as he thought of her unremarkable body lying on the ground of the Great Hall. Merlin, he couldn’t stop thinking about what would have happened if he’d chosen differently all those years ago… 

* * *

_ Charlie Weasley sat on a squishy red sofa in front of a roaring fire in the Gryffindor Common Room. In one hand, he held a letter from the Falmouth Falcons, and in the other he held his acceptance to the Romanian Academy of Dragonology. Both viable options, both suited his strengths just fine, both avenues that wouldn’t force him into a desk job that would suck out his soul. _

Merlin _ , Charlie thought as he ran a hand through his long hair,  _ how does one choose between the two things they love most in the world?

_ Dragons and …  _ Tonks _. _

_ As if the universe itself was testing his resolve, the sofa dipped beneath new weight and her thigh pressed against his. She sidled up next to him and rested her elbow on his shoulder. Charlie turned his chin to look at her, a full-on grin met his gaze. _

_ “‘Lo, handsome.” Her petite fingers threaded through the hair around his ear and her brilliant blue eyes sparkled. She wore her hair dark and short, a favorite style of his. “Whatcha got there?” _

_ Charlie chucked both letters to the side, forcing a smile. “Scouting letter from the Falcons. Professor McGonagall inquired with the coach and they’ll be coming out to the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff game on Saturday.” _

_ “But that’s brilliant, Charlie!” Her lips caressed his cheek and when she pulled away, the bubblegum colored hair curled in ringlets around her shoulders. “I haven’t wanted to push, of course. I had hoped you’d choose to stay in England.” _

_ “Right.” His shoulders tightened; he  _ hadn’t _ decided, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her that. Not when she’d sneaked into his common room with that beautiful smile and those blue eyes sparkling at him so proudly. “We’ll see how I do at the match.” _

_ “You’re the best seeker in a decade,” she said, sliding her fingers from his cheek to his chin. _

_ Charlie chuckled, and his smile felt lighter. “Better not let your captain hear you saying that.” _

_ Her tinkling laugh rang through the Common Room and she crawled into his lap. “He’ll get over it. Besides, it’s not a secret how bloody good you are. Even Professor Sprout says—” _

_ He couldn’t take it anymore. The talk of quidditch, of seeking, of how  _ good _ he was. He didn’t want it, hadn’t asked for it. Charlie had only wanted to fly, to chase after something that wasn’t grades and a job at the Ministry. Instead of opening up to Tonks, though, his lips pressed against hers and his hands wrapped into her long, pink hair. She moaned into the kiss and let the conversation fall away as they lost themselves to the heat of the moment. _

* * *

_ There wasn’t anything quite like the wind blasting against his face as he dipped and rolled on his broom. The snitch was elusive, hiding somewhere he hadn’t thought to look. On Hufflepuff’s team, the seeker tailed him; Charlie wasn’t worried about him, though. He’d yet to lose the snitch in all his seven years if he’d seen it first. _

_ Down below in the stands, Tonks stood in a crimson scarf. The lone Hufflepuff draped in Gryffindor red among her housemates. If she were anyone else, Charlie would worry for her well-being. But, as it were, the Hufflepuffs merely gave her a wide berth and left her alone as she cheered him on. _

_ His eyes moved, searching out the small golden object. In the top box where all the professors sat, a man draped in official robes sat with a quill and parchment. From a distance, Charlie could make out the Falmouth Falcons badge on his cloak. Charlie swallowed, and let his gaze travel on. _

_ The quaffle sailed through the air, and his team scored another ten points. The crowd roared, and that’s when he saw it. Small, golden, and with fluttering wings, the snitch zipped along the hands in the air above the Gryffindor box. Charlie barely thought about racing towards it when his broom kicked into motion and zoomed forward. _

_ The feel of the crowd holding its breath brought a smile to Charlie’s face as he chased the snitch, over the Gryffindors and then down to the ground. He barrel rolled, holdings his thighs tight to his broom, and extended his arm forward to snatch the little ball before it flew off again. As his fingers curled around it, the entire school broke into raucous cheers. Charlie landed on the ground and brought the snitch over head, his eyes climbing up and up until they found the scout for the Falcons and his Head of House smiling down at him proudly. _

_ He knew it then: he could join the Falcons if he so wished. _

_ Instead of the brilliant smile he’d expected, Charlie felt a pang in his chest. _

* * *

A hand clasped his shoulder and Charlie was pulled from his reverie. He turned his chin and found Bill’s exhausted gaze staring back at him.

“Looks like we had the same idea, bruv,” he said, voice soft as he patted his shoulder and stood at Charlie’s side. “Loads of good memories in here.”

Charlie bit the soft tissue of his cheek and curled his hand into a fist at his side. “Feels like they’re all a bit tainted now, if I’m honest.”

“She was happy mate,” Bill whispered, turning his understanding eyes to Charlie. “Were you?”

His gaze landed on the squishy chair in front of the fire. If he squinted, he could almost make out the outline of himself and Tonks; the moment he’d gathered her petite hands in his and told her that he’d decided to go to the Romanian Academy of Dragonology. That he was choosing to leave England, leave her, in pursuit of something that he’d craved since he was a young lad. He could still picture the way her smile had fallen and the swiftness with which her hair had turned from vibrant pink to mousy brown.

In the time Charlie had spent away from England, the disappointment she’d tried so desperately to hide through graduation haunted him. But, when he’d returned to take part in The Order of the Phoenix, and he had seen how she’d fallen in love again, his heart had finally unclenched. He thought of her vibrant hair, sparkling eyes, and clumsy hello the last time he’d seen her before the battle.

Loyal as a Hufflepuff, she’d followed her husband into battle. She’d given her life to try and save him. Charlie couldn’t help but wonder: if it had been him, would she have found herself in the midst of battle alongside him? Would he have protected her, shielded her from the war? He could hear her voice ringing in his ears:  _ You can’t bloody stop me, Charlie Weasley. _

A small smile toyed with the corners of his lips even as his eyes watered. “Yeah — I was.”


End file.
